Rain
by Magnolie
Summary: Irene Adler had always been wondering about the rain. Until the day she met him. From that day one it was HIS secret, HIS inner soul, HIS brilliant mind and HIS way of looking at her, she wanted to unravel. And now she was escaping from her own feelings.


**Rain**

_To the only person who is precious enough_

_**Author's Note:** This is my very first Sherlock Holmes Fanfiction. It's just a One Shot and came to my mind while listening to "Listen to the Rain" by Evanescence and it's taking place a few days after the last scene of the 2009 movie. I hope you enjoy! Maybe I'll write some more if I find the time. Leave a comment! :D_

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><p>Irene Adler had always been wondering about the rain. Since early childhood she had always sat by the windows of the house in New Jersey in the small village only inhabited by good Catholics.<br>No one had ever been able to tell her anything about it but it was and always had been the most fascinating thing to her.

She remembered herself asking her mother thousands of questions about the cold phenomenon coming from the sky and touching her so gently. She never answered any of them. Irene had spent hundreds of nights outside, waiting for the rain washing and comforting her after something sad had happened. Rain had always cheered her up as well as it had fascinated her.

Until the day she met him.

From that day one it was _HIS_ secret, _HIS_ inner soul, _HIS_ brilliant mind and _HIS_ way of looking at her, she wanted to unravel.  
>How much she loved thinking about every of his glares!<br>She loved being by his side no matter how hard they fought or argued. She remembered the first night they had spent together at the Grand Hotel. His gentle touches were still haunting her in lonely nights.  
>And she remembered the sound of the rain crushing against the window while he was caressing her not saying a word. She had left before sun had risen on the next morning. Leaving him alone in this huge and empty bed.<p>

Rain was covering the windows of the train in which she was sitting.

Irene had neither unpacked her luggage nor a novel. She was sitting there and not moving. The ride took more than five hours but her own mind was bothering her enough.  
>Her little hat sat perfectly on her hair, her jacket was tightened and her face was frozen. The only flaw in her face was a little scar on her right cheek; a last vestige from the happenings of the last days.<p>

She just tried not to cry. She did not plan on coming to London but when she arrived there, something in her mind had switched and she had thought about staying there for a little longer.  
>Now, the only thing that was left was to escape again, to escape again from him, her feelings and her fears.<p>

Irene kept telling herself that police would have had arrested her if she had stayed. She knew it was only a lie. She would have found a way to stay unter their radar.

She had chosen Paris for her next stop. She wanted to visit some old friends before continuing her journey to Greece.  
>She was hoping for some sunbeams and the blue sea. She was hoping for her broken heart to heal again. And when her thoughts were put in a right and proper order, she would think about coming back to London again.<p>

She didn't really know why she felt so betrayed. Nothing had really happened between them.  
>Well – that wasn't correct. But she actually had no right to feel betrayed or deceived. He hadn't done anything to hurt her.<p>

She had ruined it herself. Or was it just her habit to run away from something serious? She had broken his heart the last time she saw him. And now circumstances had broken her heart for the first time in her life. Unlike last time, she wanted to stay. What was it that made her do this?  
>Irene raised her head and a single tear fell down from her cheek.<p>

A mother with two little boys passed the wagon. The children were screaming and yelling, the mother looked tired, tired of her life and the two children she had to care for.  
>Irene sighed silently and tried to ignore the noise. It disappeared only minutes later in the monotone sound the train was causing.<p>

It was quiet for a while. She still did not move but had closed her eyes trying not to think about anything. She opened them again to look out of the window. Small houses and churches were passing by quickly, between the small villages, always the empty landscape and the rain.

The train stopped in Canterbury, one of the last villages before her final destination, Dover. She had booked a ferry that would take her to Calais and a comfortable night train to Paris.  
>The few passengers who were still sitting in the wagon got up to leave it. When it moved again Irene was alone.<p>

"Breakfast on Champs-Elysees..." She said silently hoping it would cheer her up. It didn't.  
>The only thing she could think of was London and the man who was living there, stealing her heart again and again everytime she caught a sight of him, heard his voice or smelled his masculine scent.<p>

"The tickets please!" She woke from her daydreams when she heard the dark and scratching voice of the ticket collector, he was entering from the other wagon.

It actually was the first time she really moved. She grabbed her handbag and started searching for her ticket while the collector slowly was coming closer. She didn't even look at him when she handed over her ticket. Her glare slid over through the window and the empty landscape.

"You were right."

She raised her head instantly.

"I am missing you. I just thought it would take me a bit longer to realise."

Irene smiled happily.

"So, you're joining me to Paris, Sherlock?"

"I have been asked to take care of a case and this train was the next to leave." He sat down towards her and gave her the ticket. "You haven't, by accident of course, booked room 222 at the Ambassador?"

She looked at him, not understanding his question. How did he know?

"Perfect Irene, mine's 223."

Both of them were staring at each other and did not notice that the rain had stopped.  
>Sun was showing her pretty face behind the horizon.<p>

The End.


End file.
